


a million words

by stardating



Series: when going through a storm [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ADHD, Adopted Peter Parker, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Education, Learning Disabilities, M/M, School, Slow Burn, Teacher Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, single parent tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardating/pseuds/stardating
Summary: After Peter was diagnosed with ADHD, Tony vowed to do everything that he could to help Peter adapt and thrive in a world that is not always user friendly for everyone. Then he gets called into another parent-teacher conference.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: when going through a storm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838563
Comments: 10
Kudos: 134





	a million words

**Author's Note:**

> Here is part two! Still a very slow moving in the Stony department, but yay for more story background and character development! Thank you, JehBeeEh for beta reading! And special thanks to treesramblings for pointing out a typo that caused some confusion!

Tony had met Peter’s mother a little more than twelve years ago, during his wilder days, during one party or another. It was always his policy to be careful and safe, not wanting to burden a woman with a child he was expecting or landing his family (and later, company) with a scandal. No one deserved to have to be swept under the rug and god, no one deserved Howard’s wrath.

She had been a one night thing, nothing special or out of the ordinary. Gone in the early morning light like so many others.

Then Stane happened and he had to forget about the parties, the drinks, and so many other aspects his wealth ‘afforded’ him. The betrayal had been a huge wake up call. He needed to think about the future—beyond stock markets and sales and what outrageous headline he could get printed next. He needed to get his head out of his ass, because he couldn’t be blind anymore. Not when his inattention _killed_ other people and people were _still_ dying because of his weapons. It would take generations for those scars to heal, if they ever did.

It was a trying Wednesday morning ten years ago when he got the news, or well, when JARVIS brought a public file to his attention. He had a migraine going on three hours, there were board meetings he had to attend, mountains of paperwork, and Pepper was ready to kill him. He didn’t blame her. While she was happy for his change of heart, she was not happy with all of the drama that his changes were causing. It was about time he promoted her, so she could shove whatever fancy shoes she was wearing into someone’s eye and have the authority to do so.

Yeah, that was a headline he could get behind. Pepper Potts finally having the resources and power to do whatever she wanted.

“Sir,” JARVIS insisted. “This is a matter I believe deserves your attention. I would not bring it up if I did not believe there was a ninety-eight percent chance of there being credibility to the claim.”

“What claim?” Tony asked after downing some more coffee.

“That this child, Peter Parker, is your biological son.”

Tony spat out another mouthful of coffee.

“W-What?”

JARVIS pulled up the public records that stated he was the father of a ten-year-old boy. His records had only _just_ been put online, which was why he hadn’t come across JARVIS’ radar before now. Apparently, his mother had died in a car accident, leaving Peter to be lost in the shuffle of foster care, because no one believed that he was the biological son of Tony Stark. There had been a number of people who claimed their children were his before, but a DNA test quickly proved their claims to be false. It happened every so often, but …

Tony read over the file, feeling like a rug had been pulled out from under him.

He remembered Peter’s mother. Dates matched up. Her pregnancy had to have been an accident, a fluke. Condoms weren’t always successful. But why she didn’t contact him again—or had she and his father send her away? Did she not want Tony in her life anymore than he already had been? If that was the reason, he didn’t blame her, but child support! He would have agreed to that!

JARVIS brought up a picture and Tony’s entire world shifted.

The picture was clearly something from school with a mottled gray background, but as he stared, Tony saw the resemblance. It was slight. He probably took after his mother’s side of the family with the pale skin, round face, and light brown hair … but … Peter had his grandmother’s smile.

He had a son and he was ten years old and he was in foster care.

“J, call Pepper—have all my meetings cleared. This is way more important.”

* * *

When he first met Peter, he was a nervous wreck.

The courts were suspicious, the social workers gave him the stink eye, and the people Peter had been assigned to just … They gave him the creeps. He felt like he needed to kidnap Peter and never let anyone come near him again, but that would be illegal and not help _at all_.

“This is Peter,” the social worker said, leading Peter over to Tony.

The room they were in was a study room or something of the courthouse. Multipurpose, filled with old chairs and a table meant to stand up to years of abuse. Kind of musty.

Tony was petrified.

This was his _son_ —a son he had never met before, a son he had never been given a chance to know. He was a mess, had been for years, even after he cleaned up his act and shut the weapons division of SI down and worked on becoming sober. Would he have done all those things to change his life and SI around sooner if he had known? Would he have been mature enough to handle it? How else would the world have changed if he had known?

“Hi.”

His voice sounded like a frog’s croak.

“Um. Hi.”

Peter was practically trembling.

The social worker gave Tony another sneering look and then went to a chair on the other side of the room to give them a semblance of privacy.

“A-Are you really my dad?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded. They had done a DNA test privately to be sure. Peter was his.

“Yeah. So, I heard you like computers?”

That made Peter’s face light up.

An hour later, they had bounced dozens of ideas and conversation topics around, talking about anything and everything under the sun in some random way that would confuse anyone listening in. But Tony was amazed by Peter’s brilliance, how he approached any topic with enthusiasm, how he was so, so curious—

“Your time is almost up,” the social worker said, standing up.

Peter looked at Tony with panic in his eyes.

“I’m going to adopt you,” Tony said. Both of them had been avoiding that particular topic. “I’m going to fight for custody. I’m not going to let you bounce around in the system. I promise.”

Peter promptly burst into tears and threw himself into Tony’s arms. He had to be dragged away because the social worker was insistent about following the judge’s orders.

* * *

It took almost an entire year, an _entire year_ to win custody. Tony knew that cases like this could be dragged out for much longer depending upon the circumstances, but thank god his lawyers did their jobs very well and a few of them supported his goal to adopt Peter. Even Pepper thought he was doing the right thing and she had seen him at his worst. Sometimes, even a year after Peter finally came home, Tony suspected he didn’t quite believe it.

Like this was going to be another would-be home that would end sooner or later.

It broke his heart when Peter asked questions like, ‘I have my own bed?’ and ‘I can sleep in today?’ He wanted to murder the people who would make him ask such things, would make _any_ child ask such things, and he knew the system was broken, but god, finding the right people and giving them resources would make a world of a difference. So, he did that instead. Him being in jail would do no one any good.

Even if it took him forever, Tony would constantly do his best to make sure he never, ever gave Peter a reason to doubt his love for him or think he would be given back to the system.

It was the least he could do.

* * *

It turned out that the early 2000s had no idea what ADHD was really like. Especially those little comics that probably took someone five minutes to come up with and post.

There were different forms, like the kind that made it hard for children to physically keep still when needed and another form that made it hard for children to focus for long lengths of time. Girls and boys were affected differently. As they grew, the symptoms could change. Scientists and doctors suspected there were more adults out there with ADHD than people realized because by the time they got into the workforce, whatever they weren’t diagnosed with was ‘normal’ to them and why would they seek medical help for something they didn’t think they had?

Tony’s mind was further boggled when kids could have depression, anxiety, and all sorts of other mental conditions _on top_ of ADHD which made symptoms worse or negated some symptoms or created a new set of symptoms and—

He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

The professionals at the school (and an outside psychologist, because like hell he wasn’t going to get a second opinion) agreed that Peter had ADHD. They also suspected that he had anxiety, but given what had happened in his young life, they were not surprised.

“Like all mental issues, it is hard to pin down why someone has a condition and someone else doesn’t, even in the same household,” one of the professionals said. “It doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with Peter. He just needs to learn different coping skills than say, someone who has dyslexia or someone who is on the autistic spectrum.”

Now that Tony had a set of parameters to compare, he understood Peter’s actions and behaviors a lot more. He just assumed that Peter was energetic and took after him in terms of intelligence.

Peter probably did. Just in more ways than that.

Tony was still trying to wrap his brain around _that_ revelation.

At least Peter seemed to be taking the diagnosis better than he was. While Tony’s mind had been swirling with terms like ‘accommodation’ and ‘504 Plan’, Peter nodded along as the professionals discussed what could be done to help and answered all their questions as best he could. He didn’t put up a fuss, only zoned out twice, and fidgeted the whole time.

(Tony had JARVIS order five of those fidgeting cubes for him. They were safer than the fidget spinners and certainly better than letting him pick at his fingers.)

The weekend it was brought up, over dinner and cookies, May and Ben had assured him that there was nothing wrong either. May, being a nurse, was even able to discuss what ‘wrong’ meant in the medical sense. It was a world’s difference from the definition that most people would ascribe to it—none of that philosophical stuff that left a bad taste in Tony’s mouth.

“It’s like … being nearsighted,” May had said. “If you see someone wearing glasses, you don’t think there is something ‘wrong’ with them, do you?”

Peter had shaken his head. “Glasses are normal. Aren’t they?”

“That is how people perceive them now, because we’ve gotten used to people needing glasses. It would be wrong to ignore that you are nearsighted because it will cause long-term problems for you, like being unable to read small print. Having ADHD isn’t wrong either, but ignoring that you have it is wrong because it will hurt you in the long-run. Eventually, as people learn more about these conditions, they’ll be seen as normal too.”

Peter was quiet for a few moments. “But for now, I gotta figure out what kind of glasses I need?”

May had smiled at his continuation of her metaphor. “Exactly.”

“Sir,” JARVIS said, breaking Tony out of his thoughts, “I would like to remind you that your parent-conference is in half an hour.”

Tony jumped out of his chair and headed for the elevator.

Peter was in school, probably at lunch. The meeting was going to be short—Mr. Rogers had just wanted to check in and go over how the plan they had come up with for him. All in all, the accommodations seemed to be reasonable and required more effort from Peter’s teachers than Peter himself. Being allowed more time on tests, more options for assignments, and being allowed to get up and move around every so often was not what Tony had expected.

Therapy and medication were recommended as well. Peter had been very hesitant about taking medication, and Tony had suggested caffeine, but the doctor argued that research regarding caffeine’s effectiveness was mixed. Even if he took some sort of pill form of it, it would be hard to figure out how much his body could handle without there being negative side effects like migraines, jitteriness, and insomnia.

“The therapy sounds okay,” Peter said, after it was explained that it would be behavioral therapy, not something akin to Freudian head shrinking. “It’ll be like a life coach.”

“Only every other week too,” Tony added, mulling over his own experiences with therapy. They had helped somewhat, but what tended to help him was a firm kick in the rear. Peter probably needed someone to talk to, given all that he had been through. “Lots of time to test out whatever they recommend. Come back with thorough results.”

Tony had to admit he was anxious about the whole thing.

It was ludicrous to expect results only two weeks into treatment, but he hoped—

He found himself in Mr. Rogers’ classroom before he knew it. Like before, the classroom was empty of students … and Mr. Rogers as well. Scowling, Tony figured he was running late or something held him up in the hallway and took the opportunity to look around the classroom some more. Various maps of the United States were put around the classroom at eye level for easy reference. There was a large bulletin board and calendar filled with reminders for upcoming events and assignments. Then he spotted a section of a wall covered in sticky notes. Written in freaking _calligraphy_ were different headers: questions, comments, answers.

“Huh,” he said aloud as he looked over the different handwriting. The sticky notes were colorful and over-sized, perfect for those with longer questions or messier scrawls.

Seemed like this was a ‘happening’ part of the classroom.

“Looks like you found our discussion board,” Mr. Rogers said. Tony jumped and spun around to see Mr. Rogers looking at him sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tony shrugged. “Discussion board?” he asked, wanting to find his feet again.

While he was still focused on Peter, dammit, this man was just too pretty. How the hell was someone like him a teacher and not some sort of model? Even though he was only wearing a grandpa button-up shirt and khaki pants, he was like _burning_.

“Throughout the week, students can put up comments, questions, and other things to be discussed. They’re encouraged to look over them frequently to answer their peers’ questions, help elaborate thoughts, and bring them up in classroom discussions. If I see a question with a lot of tally marks, I know it’s something we need to address through instruction.”

“That’s … pretty cool,” Tony admitted. “I saw Peter’s handwriting on a lot of notes under the answers section.”

Mr. Rogers smiled. “Yeah. He has a talent for remembering facts.”

“He beats me at Trivia Pursuit.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mr. Rogers laughed. “I know it has only been a few weeks since he has been diagnosed, but I wanted to check in on how he has been at home and let you know what has been going on at school if he hasn’t already.”

“He’s been … he’s been alright. He’s taking the whole thing really well,” Tony said quietly. “Better than I would have if I were diagnosed.”

God, if someone suggested to Howard that he—

Mr. Rogers was quiet for a moment. “He’s lucky to have you. I’ve had parents outright dismiss my concerns and seen the students suffer for it.”

Tony felt himself flush. “Uh. Thanks. He’s fidgeting a lot less and is keeping track of his things better. We’re still doing the phone reminders and the planner has helped too. He writes things down and checks them off as he goes. Sometimes he forgets to check it, but we’re working on making that part of his routine in the mornings.”

“Yeah. These things take time. He’s been responding well to the changes we’ve made in his classes. It’s amazing how much an impact something like a different seating chart can have. I expect his grades to be much higher by the end of the nine weeks.”

That made Tony smile. Peter deserved to have vindication for all the work he put into studying and doing his assignments, even when his own brain seemed to work against him. He hated that grades were so important in their society, but as long as that was the focus of their education system, he hoped they would be a positive aspect of his school years.

“Good. How did that talk with the other student go? Peter won’t say anything about being bullied—I’ve tried—but it’s like it’s a cross to bear.”

Mr. Rogers let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. He’s not the only one with a complex like that. I don’t know if it’s worse than what I did as a kid, but I can’t exactly promote violence.”

“What?” Tony asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “You? No way.”

Mr. Rogers blinked and then looked aghast. “Oh, no—this is about Peter. I spoke to Flash and his parents, but they pretty much threatened to call their lawyers and claimed that he was innocent. I’m keeping an eye on it, but I hope it won’t escalate before something is done about it.”

“Damn,” Tony said. “Sorry, but wow. His parents sound awful.”

And now Tony was immensely curious about this Mr. Rogers. He looked too clean, too All-American-Apple-Pie to be a former delinquent. There was no way. He had to have been a bookworm or some shy art kid who kept their head down and out of trouble.

Mr. Rogers winced. “Some parents are more difficult to communicate with than others. But as long as we support Peter as much as we can, Flash will eventually quit. Bullies generally do, once they no longer get anything out of it.”

Tony nodded. “I know a bit about bullies. Maybe I’ll sic my lawyers on them.”

That got a good laugh out of Mr. Rogers. “That’ll be the day! Really, with you as his dad, I think Peter is going to be just fine. Do we want to keep checking in, say, once a month?”

“Yeah. I think that’ll be good.”

“Great.”

* * *

“How’d the meeting go?” Peter asked later that evening.

Tony looked up from the mess of wires he was picking apart and putting back together. “Huh?”

“The meeting with Mr. Rogers,” Peter repeated. “I saw you leaving the school between periods. Unless you were speaking with the principal? Or someone else?”

“Oh, that,” Tony said, putting the wires down. “It went well. Quick meeting. He was just checking in and letting me know how you were doing.”

“Oh,” Peter stammered.

Tony frowned. “Is there something you haven’t told me? Like being bullied?”

Peter’s face started to flush. “Um. I—you see, it’s really not that bad, I promise—”

Tony clapped his hands on Peter’s shoulders, cutting him off from what might have been the beginnings of a nervous spiraling.

“Kiddo, I got lawyers. The best lawyers. If you want me to, I can have this kid shipped to Siberia before he could even blink. Now, don’t even try to protest. You do not deserve to be bullied for any reason. Not your name, not your looks or your clothes or hobbies. Nothing. You are too young to want to try to be all tough and independent. You’re _twelve_ , not sixteen and trying to prove you’re an adult.”

Peter was quiet, biting his lip.

“I’m ignoring him. He’s just a jerk. There’s no need to bring out the lawyers, promise.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

Tony sighed. “Okay. If you’re sure. But the moment he crosses a line— _any line_ , I mean it—I am tossing his butt in jail and he won’t ever see the light of day again.”

“What do you consider a crossed line?” Peter asked.

Ah, clarification. Yeah, that was something Tony was working on, but thank god Peter liked to ask questions. “If he touches you, like hits you or pushes you into a locker, or takes your stuff, anything like that. Words can hurt, but you can develop a thick enough skin. The moment he does anything else, I’ll—”

“Lawyers,” Peter interrupted, looking shy. Like he wasn’t used to someone defending him.

“Lawyers,” Tony repeated. “It’s the least I can do.”

Peter nodded. “So, what are you working on?”

Tony allowed the change in topic and turned back to the mess of electronic parts, explaining the problem that had been going on with the microchips in one of their latest products. He was giving the problem a go, seeing if he could give their engineers some more insight before they made changes and sent it through another batch of beta testers.

He was still uneasy about Peter being bullied. He wouldn’t let the matter drop forever, but at least he knew about it and knew a name to go after first should anything happen to Peter, physically or emotionally.

But, as a therapist once told him, he had to take one problem at a time.

One day at a time.


End file.
